


Mio Fratello

by ellerkay



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Comfort Sex, Comfort/Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Incest, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-12 16:25:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4486566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellerkay/pseuds/ellerkay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stefan had never found anything as arousing as Damon, allowing himself to be just a little vulnerable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mio Fratello

**Author's Note:**

> Comfort!fic after the tombpocalypse. Incest, angst, fluff. Damon may be a little more wooby than he should really be at this point in the series, but it's clear it won't last.

Stefan sat down quietly in a chair.

“You’re not going to see me cry, if that’s what you were hoping,” Damon said, never taking his eyes from the fire. He was going for sarcastic, but his voice was raw and choked, and it hurt to listen to. Stefan looked at his hands.

“That’s not what I’m here for,” he said quietly.

Damon looked at him.

“What, then?” he snapped. “Come to gloat? Come to say ‘I told you so’ and tell me how she used us? How stupid I am for believing her?”

Stefan shook his head.

“No,” he replied.

“Then what, Stefan, _what_?” His tone was accusatory, but Stefan knew better than to take it personally. He hesitated, considering his words carefully.

“I just want to make sure you’re okay,” he said.

Damon snorted, and started to laugh, then stopped and exhaled slowly, leaning back against the arm of the couch.

“I am,” he said, rubbing his temples. Stefan, taking a gamble, rose and reseated himself on other side of the couch.

“You will be,” he said. “I know that right now, it feels like – ”

“No, no,” Damon interrupted. “I didn’t mean I’m okay. I meant, I’m _stupid_.”

Stefan reached out cautiously and let his hand rest on Damon’s shoulder.

“No, you’re not,” he said.

Damon looked at him sharply.

“I’ve spent the last hundred and fifty years mooning over a woman who doesn’t care if I’m alive or dead,” he said. “And dedicated myself to freeing her from her awful fate, which – ” he started to laugh “ – it turns out, she never experienced. Wouldn’t you say that’s stupid?”

“I’d say you loved her,” Stefan replied. “I don’t agree with all your choices, but I know what Katherine meant to you.” He squeezed Damon’s shoulder.

Damon was suddenly across the sofa, his head resting on Stefan’s shoulder. The position was so open, so trusting, so unDamonlike, that for a split second, Stefan tensed. But Damon was just lying there, and it seemed like such a good sign. So Stefan let his hand fall to Damon’s neck, rubbing the tight muscles gently.

“I don’t want to hear that name,” Damon muttered.

“Okay,” Stefan agreed. Damon raised a hand to Stefan’s other shoulder, fingers curling in to cling, holding tightly enough that it almost hurt, but Stefan didn’t care. Not that he wanted his brother in pain, but this was the most real he’d seen him since before Katherine, when they used to share a bed and he learned what expression Damon would wear when Stefan touched his cheek…

Damon’s lips were on his neck, and for a moment, Stefan was so lost in memory that he forgot that wasn’t the most natural thing in the world anymore. Then he remembered, and he gripped Damon’s neck tighter and pulled him away.

“Is that was this was about?” he demanded angrily. “Cuddling up to me, pretending to be vulnerable – all to get me to do something I told you we can’t do anymore? I’m with – ”

The words died on his lips when he saw Damon’s expression. Anger warred with hurt, and Damon’s lips were trembling with suppressed emotion.

“I’m sorry, Stefan. I thought you might be able to spare a little brotherly love on one of the worse nights of my considerably long life. My mistake.” He was trying to sound hard. He was trying to sound flippant; annoyed, but ultimately uncaring. He was failing. His voice broke on the last word, and he wrenched out of Stefan’s grasp and stared into the fire again, elbows on his knees. He was attempting to keep his face hidden from view without appearing to keep it hidden.

“I’m sorry,” Stefan said quickly, worried that he had just destroyed his last chance to reach his brother. He put a hand on the small of Damon’s back. Damon flinched, but didn’t move. “I didn’t mean – ”

“Fuck you, Stefan.” It was almost a whisper, lacking any of his usual bite.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” Stefan continued, undaunted. He moved closer to Damon, so that their legs were pressing together, and rubbed his brother’s back slowly. “You know I’ve always had trouble…resisting you. Even when you were at your worst.” They were really off-book now, and Stefan, who normally found it so easy to talk about his feelings, was struggling – afraid to give away too much, afraid to say too little. “It’s just that now, when I’m with – ” Instinctively, he decided not to say her name. “I don’t like keeping things from her.”

He felt a shuddering breath leave Damon’s body before he saw the tears, glistening in the firelight on Damon’s face. Stefan’s chest hurt with Damon’s pain, and he wondered what another rejection tonight would do to his brother. Whether their relationship would ever recover, betrayal piled upon betrayal.

He came to a decision. The only decision, in the end.

Stefan leaned further forward and kissed Damon’s cheek.

“But we can,” he said softly. “If that’s what you need.”

Damon looked at him quickly, his brows furrowed with suspicion.

“Don’t do me any favors, brother,” he said. Stefan touched his cheek, and kissed him, and as soon as Damon responded, Stefan kissed him harder. He tried to pour his emotion, his desire, into the kiss. He tried to demonstrate how hard it was to stop himself from giving in when Damon teased him, flirted, walked around half-naked or more. How he’d ached, the last few months, and how much worse it was this time, catching as he had a few glimpses of the Damon he used to know.

And Damon was kissing him back just as passionately, grasping Stefan’s arms, making eager noises against his mouth. For once, he wasn’t holding back, or keeping an ironic distance, or insisting on the dominant role.

Stefan had never found anything as arousing as Damon, allowing himself to be just a little vulnerable.

“Hang on,” he whispered as he pulled away. Damon (unspeaking, unmoving) watched him spread a blanket on the floor in front of the fireplace, and set out some pillows. Stefan waited for the snarky comment (“What do you think this is, brother, a _date_?” or something like), but none came. Damon just watched him, eyes dark and hungry. When Stefan pulled him onto the floor, Damon came willingly.

Stefan, straddling his brother’s hips, moved carefully. He pulled off his own shirt before setting to work on Damon’s buttons. Every press of his lips against Damon’s stomach and chest seemed to make Damon sigh. Stefan took his time, for his own sake as much as Damon’s, letting his hands slide over his brother’s torso and down his arms as he removed the shirt.

Damon lay back, not touching Stefan, but staring into his eyes.

“You can fuck me,” he said. His voice was breathy but there was something in it Stefan didn’t quite trust, so even though his cock twitched at the words, he leaned down to kiss Damon’s neck a few times before replying.

“Is that what you want?” he asked softly, lips brushing the curve of Damon’s ear. He waited for the laughter, the sarcasm.

“Yeah,” was all Damon said.

So Stefan finished undressing them both, and he took his time getting ready, trying to show Damon with his hands and his mouth what Damon meant to him, what it could be like between them. He prepared Damon slowly and thoroughly; the last thing he wanted to do tonight was hurt him. When he finally pushed into his brother, slick and ready, and Damon’s back arched and he moaned, Stefan’s head swam at the warmth and tightness and the sight of Damon’s skin in the firelight. At the sight of Damon’s face, ecstatic, without hate. It had been so long.

“Long time since we did this,” Damon said, echoing Stefan’s thought. “I wouldn’t let you.”

Stefan leaned down and kissed him fiercely.

“I know,” he said. He started thrusting then, and they stopped talking. The only noises in the room were sex and the snaphiss of the wood in the fireplace, greedy flames licking at the wood as Stefan and Damon devoured each other. Stefan wrapped a hand around Damon’s cock and Damon was gasping and urging him faster, sooner than Stefan would have expected, and Damon actually uttered Stefan’s name as he shuddered, coming with Stefan still inside him. Stefan dragged his lips and teeth against Damon’s shoulder, his neck, as he thrust faster and – because how could he not, when Damon had set the precedent, when he usually had to bite it back – he moaned Damon’s name into his ear before he stilled, collapsing on Damon’s chest.

He let his fingers curl in Damon’s hair. Damon’s hands were on his back, arms enfolding him, fingers in his hair.

“You know we can’t go on like this.” He didn’t mean the sex. That didn’t stop, not for long. Damon’s voice was almost regretful.

“Why not?” Stefan asked, looking into his brother’s eyes. Damon only shook his head.

“I can’t.” He sounded pained now. Stefan touched his cheek and kissed him, gently.

“It’s all right,” he said, settling his head down again.

“What about Elena?”

“She’ll understand.” Damon snorted softly. “She will.” He hoped.

They were quiet for a long moment. Stefan knew he should stay quiet, but something in him had to ask.

“Does it have to stop?”

“Yes,” Damon said, and sighed. “But we’ll always have the fireplace.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [](http://muiting.livejournal.com/profile)[**muiting**](http://muiting.livejournal.com/) who mentioned the Salvatore brothers having sex in front of the fireplace in a comment on my last Damon/Stefan fic. Upon rewatching "Fool Me Once," there was no way not to write this.


End file.
